When Everything Is Wrong, We Move Along
by landsliding
Summary: Finn Hudson has never not been stubborn when it comes to certain things. Rachel Berry just happens to top that list.


**WHEN EVERYTHING IS WRONG, WE MOVE ALONG**

...

He remembers that old saying about letting go and setting something you love free. He remembers how it'll come back if it's really, truly yours but if it isn't so much yours, it probably was never _really _yours to begin with.

He sits with a glass of warm milk and his step-brother who spits the words at him as if they're golden. "Letting go doesn't mean giving up," Kurt warns him as he grabs the milk carton and opens the lid. "You'd be stupid to give up on something this good."

"But she _did _give up," he fights back, lifting his glass to his lips but not drinking from it as he presses his eyelids shut for a minute. Kurt's cocking his brow and letting off a little snicker now, in which Finn responds to with a shrug. "...I guess she didn't?"

"She moved on, sure," Kurt says, "but she didn't give up. New York City is just another chapter in her life, that's all."

He wants to believe Kurt, he does.

But Finn Hudson has never _not _been stubborn when it comes to certain things. Rachel Berry just happens to top that list.

So he lets her go off to New York City because she's in total awe over the idea of being a student in the city and he'd rather just go to Ohio State because he's still undecided about like, _everything_ and that just won't cut it for her. He tells himself she'll realize what she's missing when he calls her on Skype after dinner every day for the first two weeks they're apart but when she answers the calls only to tell him she better go because she's got auditions and rehearsals and 'city friends', he's pretty damn close to giving up. _She was never mine to begin with,_ he starts to let himself believe.

...

It's summer now and according to Kurt she's been back in Lima for a little over a week. "I'm actually going up to the lake with her and Blaine later," he tells Finn at the breakfast table, him squeezing the ends of an orange with his fingers and Finn just making circles with a spoon in his cereal bowl. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like. I mean, you're probably _dying_ to see her, so..."

"I'm not," Finn says quickly, banging his spoon on the side of his bowl. Kurt's letting out a little chuckle, but Finn's not budging. "I swear, I'm not. I... I totally forgot she was in town."

"So you just magically cancelled your plans with Puckerman today because...?"

Finn gulps, "Because paint balling with Puckerman doesn't sound as fun as it did in high school."

"Maybe seeing Rachel for the first time in awhile sounds a little better," Kurt says with a chuckle. "The offer's still valid, Finn."

So he nods his head, taps his spoon inside of his bowl a little more, "I guess I don't have a choice."

"Oh, you do," Kurt laughs. "You're just going to pick the better one." Better choice? Well, yeah, _anything_ is better than paint balling in the heat with Puckerman while he sets down his paint gun every ten seconds to hit on some chick, but... "So come on, get your stuff together."

"You sure she'll want to see me?" He just _has_ to ask because, well, she hasn't _really_ wanted to see him in almost a year. Kurt's cocking his eyebrow again and he throws another chuckle out at Finn and now he just feels like, _super_ dumb or something. "...She wants to see me?"

"She's been in New York City for months and months," Kurt answers. "I think she'd enjoy seeing _anyone _who doesn't throw a piece of sheet music to her and ask her to sing it back to them with her eyes closed."

Finn arches his brow, "They do that there?"

"You can ask her when we're driving up to the lake," Kurt says with a small grin. "Now get dressed."

...

The drive up to the lake is supposed to be about thirty minutes long and Finn thinks it'll go by fast because he convinces Kurt to put in one of his Journey CD's. "Fine," Kurt snickers. "But on the way back we're listening to the _Fiddler on the Roof _soundtrack." Finn just nods while Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt and makes his way out of the car because they're in the driveway to Rachel's house now, even though Finn _just_ notices. "I told her we'd both go inside, unless you'd rather stay here."

"I'll stay," Finn answers, fidgeting with the rope to his belt, although he'd really rather keep it on. "Don't be too long, though."

"Someone's anxious to see her," Kurt says with a small grin as he slams his car door shut.

Finn breathes, "Just curious."

It takes them four minutes to even walk out of the door and he spots Kurt holding a tiny picnic basket when they do, Rachel holding onto his forearm with her hand. She's a little tanner and maybe a little more toned, too, from what he can see, but he stops looking like, a second later because he swears she catches him glancing at her. He thanks God for tinted windows, though, because when he looks back at her, she's doing a little laugh, dimples and all, as she still holds onto Kurt. He's got no idea what they're saying or anything but it's really adorable and he can't help but stare, really. But then his stomach is in a knot because Kurt's opening the door leading to the backseat and she's stepping in. She's carrying a small beach bag, a sunhat and a bottle of suntan lotion with her right hand. She reaches for the armrest on the seat with her left hand, only she ends up gripping the top of Finn's leg instead as she manages to climb over him.

"Hey!" She says, wide-eyed. She stops herself from climbing over him and lets him scoot down a seat, unbuckling himself as he nervously moves over. "I... I almost stepped on you. Sorry! Hi!" She's spitting one hundred words at him at once and his stomach is still tied up and twisted in every way, so he lets out a gulp and then manages to smile over to her just once as she flattens her sundress and sits down.

"Hey," he answers, fiddling with his thumbs in his lap as he looks everywhere but to her. "How... how are things?"

"Things are good," she answers with a little chuckle, placing her hand indifferently to his kneecap with shaky fingers. He nods, but all he can wonder is if she's trying like, _super_ hard to keep her cool because she's really just as nervous as he is or if she's forgotten about everything that happened between them last year and acting as if the two of them were like, completely alright again. "I can't say I didn't miss it here, though. I miss Ohio sometimes, you know."

"Do you?" He says, arching a brow as he looks to her now. He knows his cheeks are flushed, he can feel it, but it doesn't stop him from looking at her because, well, he hasn't been able to do that in what feels like _forever_. "I mean, it's hard not to miss it here, right?"

She nods, "Of course it's hard." She moves her hand further up his leg as Kurt starts to drive, almost to his thigh. Kurt looks back once and then grips the wheel even tighter than before, clearing his throat. Finn catches his smirk in the rear-view mirror and can't help but smile a little grin at the corner of his lips, too. "So, how's Ohio State?"

"Can't complain," he says with a shrug. "It's not half as good as where you are, though. New York is like, the best city ever. At least that's what I hear..."

"It's amazing," she's smiling and he smiles for her too because, well, it's where she belongs. The moment he hears the words 'New York City' he just has to associate Rachel with them, too.

"Cool," is all he can say because, well, it's not like he's super ecstatic about her being in New York City all of those miles away from him or anything. He starts to curl his hand into a fist because he's angry; he's lost his chance, really, he knows.

Kurt pulls over to the curb and before they know it, he's opening the door to his car, holding out his finger and walking up to Blaine's front porch. "I'll be back in five. Blaine's having an outfit crisis."

"And then there were two." He looks over to her and she just arches her brow, letting off a confused sort-of grin as she fiddles with the material of her sundress. "It's... it's a saying." He feels like such an idiot because she's still got that look plastered across her face and he's pretty sure he may as well paint his cheeks red they're so flustered.

"I know," she breathes. "Finn?"

"Hm?" He starts to look out of the window because it's a bad idea to look at her when he's like this, he knows.

"I wish you'd look at me the way you used to." So maybe it's not just him who says stupid things. She bites her bottom lip with her teeth, continues to fidget with the ends of her sundress, and tries her best to duck her head, covering her now-flushed cheeks.

He says nothing, not even turning away from the window.

"I... I shouldn't have said anything," she says, her voice shaky. "I was the fool who broke up with you because I was selfish. I wanted to be a star and make something of myself and I dropped everything I loved for it."

"Rachel..." He brushes his hand over hers now, but only before she pulls away, shaking her head as her eyes begin to grow a little wet.

"Save it, Finn," she says with a gulp. "I'm crazy for thinking I could come back home to Lima this summer and let myself fall in love with you all over again and pretend as if nothing went wrong." She gulps again; he just runs his hand over hers one more time and tells himself he won't let her pull away. She doesn't. "I'm surprised you haven't opened the car door and left, really," she tells him. "If I were you I wouldn't want to be anywhere near me."

"I don't care about the past," he tells her. Honestly, he doesn't because he's _totally_ screwed up before too and he knows no one's perfect, not even Rachel Berry. "You're here for the entire summer, right?"

She only nods.

"So," he starts, "I guess I'll just have to make room in my schedule for you."

"What... what are you saying?"

He breathes, "It could've worked. It could still work."

He thinks back to that saying about letting go and then back to his conversation with Kurt just months ago. _You'd be stupid to give up on something this good_, he hears Kurt say.

"Come here," he unbuckles his belt and opens his arms a little bit until Rachel scoots over closer to where he's sitting. "We never really did say hello."

She holds him tight, practically digging her nails into the skin of his back as she leans her chin to his shoulder.

He knows they never really did say goodbye, either.

...

It's the beginning of June when he's sprawled across the floor playing Call of Duty and she's cross-legged on his bed, fiddling with the Rubix's Cube he leaves on his night table. It's just like old times, really, except he wonders when she's going to blurt out random questions or beg him to teach her to play someday even though she's got no real interest in Call of Duty or anything like it at all. But then he remembers they only did that kind of stuff when they were a _real _couple and, well, they're _definitely_ not a couple anymore.

"Hey, Finn?" Here we go. She's still fiddling with the Rubix's Cube in frustration, sliding her fingers over the same piece over and over again, when he puts down his controller and looks up at her. "Were there... were there any girls?"

"Any girls _where_?"

She snickers, placing the Rubix's Cube in her lap. "Don't play dumb," she breathes. "Were you seeing anyone over at Ohio State?"

He sighs, then, "There _was_ one person, but..."

She cocks her eyebrow and just lets out a sigh, but really, he knows she's stupid to be mad. She dumped _him_, not the other way around. "Did you love her?"

"Rachel..."

"I'm serious," she says. "Did you love her more than you loved me?"

"I loved her before I loved you, sure," he starts, "but I can't say I loved her more. I don't think I've loved anymore more than -"

"Before? Are... are you saying -"

He breathes heavily, stands up from the floor and walks over to the bed where she's sitting. She scoots over just a little, letting him sit on the small space in between his night table and his bed. "I saw Quinn after we broke up. I didn't know how to tell you so... so I didn't."

She breathes heavily and she doesn't let her breath out so he's afraid she's totally gonna start to choke or something. Lifting his hand up, he rubs the small of her back until she fidgets her body away from him, shaking her head. Turning to him in a hushed whisper, she takes a breath and folds her arms underneath her breasts, "I haven't been with one person while I was away in New York. I don't know why I want you to know this because, well, evidently you couldn't care less, but it's true."

"Quinn and I weren't exactly _together_ or anything," he fights back but he knows she won't take it.

"But you were together in... in _that_ way." She doesn't ask a question; it's just a statement and he knows she's not stupid because her eyes look completely damaged and broken and she's doing that thing where she lets out a little sniffle and leans her head forward, her eyes completely breaking his glance.

"We're not together anymore," he tells her. "She broke it off with me two months ago when she decided she'd rather have a go at Puckerman for like, whatever reason."

Rachel lets out a huff. "When will you realize she's been wanting Puckerman all along?" He won't realize it because, well, she certainly didn't want Puckerman all of freshman year of college when she completely threw herself onto him. "Or does she feed your ego so much you've forgotten?"

"Feed my ego? I don't... I don't get it, Rach," he lets out a huff, leaning his head back onto one of the pillows propped up against the headboard of his bed.

"Did you think about me at all while I was away?"

"I tried not to," he answers honestly. "You wanted nothing to do with me, so I tried my hardest to want to have nothing to do with you. It even worked for a little while... y'know, when I thought Quinn and I were actually going somewhere."

"How'd she break up with you?" She can ask as many questions as she wants, really, because he doesn't let them bother him anymore. What _does_ bother him is that Quinn always seems to come to play in almost every conversation they have. Rachel's insecurities join then, too, he knows.

But he answers, "She told me to get over it."

Rachel nods, then, "And how'd I break up with you?"

He's not really sure where she's going because he reminds himself that she's Rachel Berry; she could be going _anywhere_ with this. But he answers again when his eyes meet her broken-yet-hopeful ones, "You told me you needed to find yourself."

"And I _have_," she tells him, her hand grazing his kneecap now. He wonders if she even notices she's doing that. "New York has made me realize that the only boy I'll probably ever be happy with is you, Finn. Sure, I've had crushes like any typical eighteen-year-old girl, but I've never felt something special about anyone I've met besides you. And it kills me to say it now because, well, you clearly didn't feel the same. You didn't wait for me, Finn. You went to Quinn because she was there to pick you up off your feet when I wasn't around. I asked you to wait for me and you promised me you would, Finn. Did you forget all of that once you had Quinn again or something?"

He gulps and she opens her mouth to speak once more. He's grateful she does because, really, he's not sure what to say.

"I can guarantee," she says with a nod, lifting her body off of his bed and standing on the small rug just beside it, "that Quinn would never care for you as much as I do."

"She was there for me when you weren't!" That sort of just comes out; he's not thinking. She rolls her eyes, flattens out the bottom of her skirt and heads for his door, her hand gripping the doorknob. "Wait! Just... just listen to me, Rachel. I know it's usually you who does most of the talking but you can't say I don't listen to you. Rachel, I _know_ what you asked me when you broke up with me. You asked me to wait, Rachel and really, I tried. But you know why I couldn't?" She lets go of the grip she's got on the doorknob, pivots her body so she's facing him and shuts her eyelids tightly for a moment. "I wasn't gonna be the one thing holding you back from your dreams, Rachel. Admit it; you've already made something of yourself in New York without me."

"Well there _were _those callbacks for the revival of _Funny Girl_, but it's an off-Broadway show and really, there are _so_ many more talented people out there, so..."

"But you got a callback, didn't you?"

She nods.

"You seem to be doing pretty alright on your own," he says, tapping the small space where she was sitting on his bed as she walks over hesitantly. "I don't think I could stand taking you away from being a star or whatever."

"You wouldn't be," she assures him, folding her hands in her lap as she looks up to him guiltily.

"That's not what you said last year," he says.

She breathes, "People tend to change in a year, Finn. A year of being out on my own in New York has made me realize just how much sense I wasn't making."

"But you _did_ make sense," he says. "You definitely wouldn't want the burden of calling your stupid boyfriend all the way back home in Ohio when you're over there living it up in New York City."

She just stands up once more, fiddling with two small buttons at the end of her orange cardigan. "I can't finish this conversation now," she says. "It'll have to wait."

"Why?" She can't just walk out on him now, he knows. He's lined up like, a list of things to say in his head and she's leaving just when he starts to get a grip.

"Good things take time," she answers, gripping the doorknob once more. "_Please_, Finn," she breathes, "don't rush this."

...

He texts her at around midnight even though he thinks she's probably already sleeping. He tries to stop himself but then he remembers he hasn't talked to her at all in almost five days so he presses the send button, throws his phone on his night table, nestles his head deep into his pillow and just waits.

Instead he gets a phone call almost twenty minutes later as his eyelids are long past shut and he's breathing deep, the sound of the night breeze drifting through his window the only thing keeping him a little bit awake.

"I can't sleep," she breathes into the phone when he finally rolls out of bed to answer it. "Were you asleep?"

"I was," he says with a chuckle, "but I'm not anymore, so..."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I'll... I'll let you go back to sleep."

"You obviously needed something, Rach. What's up?"

"Well," she breathes, "it's more like what _isn't_ up."

He lets out a sigh, throws his body completely out of his covers and sits up on his bed because, well, it's gonna be a _long _night, he knows.

...

They go to some drive-in her dads recommend on a Friday night, just the two of them. They're in the front seat when Rachel unbuckles her belt, scoots closer to Finn, who's happily chomping on popcorn, and lets out a screech.

"I never was a fan of horror films," she says, fidgeting with her hands as she tries her hardest to look away from the screen.

He reaches his hand into the popcorn bucket, then, "I would've seen the chick flick, but..."

"But you would've fallen asleep and I would've had to summarize the whole entire film for you and then I would've ended up driving us home," she laughs, flicking him playfully on the arm.

He laughs because he remembers all those movies she used to try and get him to watch and all those times he'd fall asleep before the first scene. There was _Grease 2_ and _The Notebook _and _Pretty__ in Pink_ and every Barbra Streisand movie in the book. He remembers the way she'd scoot closer to him once the credits started to play and the way she'd sprawl her legs across his body and try to wake him up because he was safe now; the dreadful movie was over, thankfully. "Pretty much."

He can tell she remembers too because she's silent for a moment and then she scoots away from him, but not before digging her hand into the bucket of popcorn he's holding and grabbing a handful. "You always did like the snacks, though."

"Best part of the movie," he says, shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth as she just laughs along. "But I didn't mind _The Notebook_ or _Titanic_ as much as you thought I did."

"You fell asleep before the ending of the both of those movies," she tells him with an eye roll.

"But you summarized the love stories in the both of 'em pretty well," he tells her. "Allie loved Noah even though she was a stubborn bitch and Rose wouldn't scoot over on the iceberg to make room for Jack because she was a selfish bitch, right?"

She just lets out a snicker. "It's funny how the term 'bitch' happens to be used in both of those summaries."

"Women are complicated," he says with a shrug.

She just lets out another eye roll, then, "As if guys aren't."

"I'm not complicated," he says. "If I had a girlfriend and all she wanted to do was have sex and maybe cuddle a little bit, I wouldn't complain."

She hits him playfully on the arm.

"Kidding! But really, if you told me all you wanted to do tonight was maybe lean on my arm and watch this stupid horror movie with me just for the hell of it, I'd let you do it. No complaints." He gulps and feels his own face flush because he's unsure how his words manage to come out. But they do and he feels like a complete jackass after speaking them most of the time.

"I wouldn't object," she says with a shrug, throwing the extra bits of popcorn she's holding in her hand back inside of the bucket in between the both of them. She tosses the bucket onto her seat, sits on her bottom down on the small tray in between them both and places her hand in Finn's lap. "I _really_ wouldn't object. Besides, this movie's pretty horrible and I'm pretty sure I just saw a knife."

He looks up at the screen for a minute, but then he looks back down to her and doesn't look away because it hasn't been like this in so, _so_ long. It's just him and her in his car and it's summer so really, there's nothing that can take her away from him right now and when he reminds himself of that, he can't help but feel his stomach start to tangle. He's not sure if it's in a good way or in a bad way but he tells himself he'll make the most of it while it lasts, so he grabs her hands, lets her lace her fingers through his and places their intertwined hands down in his lap. "You alright?" He just _has_ to ask because she's a little too quiet and, well, she's _Rachel Berry_. Rachel Berry is _never_ quiet.

"I missed this," she says, running the soft tips of her fingers over his rougher knuckles.

"Yeah," he says, looking back down to their hands to make sure this is like, actually happening. It is.

"I hate college for doing this to me," she looks up at him now, gnawing at her bottom lip with her teeth nervously. "I hate college for doing this to _us_," she corrects herself and really, he's just confused and she knows it all too well so she speaks again. "We could've still been a couple, Finn."

"Nothing says a long-distance relationship'll kill us," he breathes, running his hand over the top of her hair. "It wouldn't kill us, right?" He's cocking his eyebrow now and he feels himself start to sweat too because she's completely silent and again, it's _totally_ not normal for her.

She just shakes her head, "Calling my boyfriend in Ohio from New York everyday could be fun."

He laughs and then kisses the top of her hair because this is practically what he's been waiting for her to say to him for like, _forever_.

"Does this mean I get to hang that picture of you back up in my dorm?"

She still has that thing? He swears she threw it out after she completely distanced herself from him because he was _so_ not good for someone like her anymore. As weird as it is she's kept it all this time, he can't help but give off a little smile from the corner of his lips because, well, he's more flattered than weirded out. "Put one up of the both of us instead," he tells her. "It's better that way."

...

They're inside of a photo booth at the mall, Rachel squeezing herself on top of Finn's lap because the bench can hardly fit one person let alone two.

"Think of it as a photo shoot," she tells him just before she's about to place a five-dollar bill into the slot. "Each pose'll just come to you. I was thinking in the first shot I'd kiss you on the cheek, the second we'd stick our tongues out or do something rebellious because, y'know, I've never been rebellious, and the third we could -"

He turns his head to her and kisses her before she can go on. "Don't plan these things," he tells her. "Things go wrong when you plan 'em."

By the time they step out of the photo booth twenty minutes later, she only keeps one set out of like, a hundred. "I like this one," she's pointing to the last photo on the strip. "You look happy."

She's on top of his lap in that one, her cheek rubbed against his as she gives off a grin into the camera. He's smiling pretty wide too and well, he's not sure when he's last seen himself smile like _that_ so he takes the strip from her hands and looks at it up and down over and over again. "That's 'cuz I _am_ happy."

She tangles her fingers in his, bumps her nose to his forearm and lets out a little chuckle. She smells like sunscreen and perfume and baby powder, too and it's just so, so Rachel and so, _so_ good so he squeezes her hand harder as she drags him over to a booth in the middle of the mall.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but can I pull you aside for a quick question?" A man, maybe thirty, walks up to her when Finn's too intrigued by the graffitied baseball caps all lined up on a rack to pay attention to much else.

"Uh... sure," she lets go of Finn's hand and walks to the other side of the stand where the man's holding a clipboard. "I'll be right back," she whispers to Finn who's pestering a sales guy about the prices on a stupid graffitied Yankees cap.

"I'm sure you've seen us around here before, but incase you haven't, we run a modeling agency and are currently in search for young adults for all sorts of jobs in the modeling industry. There's catalogue modeling, runway modeling - although you're _way_ too tiny to ever be considered for the runway - and a bunch more." He's talking _way_ too fast even Rachel feels like asking him to slow down. "I could see you in the catalogues; maybe even the commercials. You've got a beautiful face and body, that's for sure."

Finn puts down some cap he's fiddling with and takes note of the guy checking out Rachel left and right and walks over to her. "What's goin' on, babe?"

Rachel laughs. "He runs a modeling agency," she turns to Finn who's not half as enthralled as she is. "He said I have potential as a catalogue or commercial model and he's just showing me a few of the contracts now."

It's a scam, he knows it. He's seen stories like these a million times; girl gets lured into thinking she'll become a model by some pervert in the middle of the mall and then gets scammed out of like, thousands of bucks. "You don't want her," Finn says, shaking his head as he gets the man's attention now. He puts down his clipboard, arches his brow and looks over to a more than disappointed Rachel, her jaw quivering.

"I... I..."

"She'd never be able to keep up," Finn tells him. "Did you know she actually spent three whole summers at fat camp?"

Rachel hits him in his side - _hard_. "Are you kidding me?" She's looking up to him, fire sparking in her eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

But he doesn't stop because, well, the pervert's still totally looking up and down the toned legs his girlfriend's _definitely_ not trying to hide in her cuffed denim shorts with the holes above the knee. "Never know when an old habit'll sneak up on you," Finn says, satisfied.

The man just puts his clipboard down on the wood of the stand, dropping the pen with it. "I... I see," he says. "Someone isn't too supportive of her career. You're the brother, I'm guessing."

"Boyfriend, actually," he says, "and I'm supportive of everything else she does but I'm definitely not supportive of a modeling career being sponsored by some pervert who hasn't taken his eyes off of her legs the whole time he's been standing over here."

The man walks away, unamused. Rachel stands on her tiptoes, pressing a small kiss just below his cheekbone. He wonders what that's for, really, because two seconds ago she was totally about to slap him silly for chasing that pervert from that so-called modeling agency away. But whatever, he'll take it.

"That was almost heroic, I think," she says, amused. "Even if I've been dying to make it in the modeling industry since the age of three."

"Save it," Finn says, waving his hand as he watches that asshole walk through the center aisle of the mall to make sure he doesn't walk back over to where they are. "Model for me instead. You said you like photo shoots, right?"

...

After today, he swears to himself he'll never have a reason to call Rachel Berry a prude again.

She's laying on a hammock in his backyard reading while he hits a few baseballs with Puck. Every few seconds or so, he turns back just to make sure she's there. It's stupid because she totally wouldn't ditch him or anything, but he feels like he's gotta look back at her anyway. She's still laying down, nose in her book, each and every time he looks back to her. She meets his glance once though, lifting her left wrist up and tapping on her watch with a little smirk.

"I... I better run," he drops the baseball bat he's holding into the grass as Puck shoots him an unamused glance.

"Mad I was showin' you who's boss, Hudson?" Puck laughs. "S'okay, I've got a hot blonde and a hot tub waitin' for me at home."

Finn gulps, then, "Sure." He can't think of it; he can't think of hot blondes and hot tubs without thinking of Quinn and well, he's not supposed to be thinking of her at all. _You've got Rachel now_, he says the whole entire time he watches Puck scoop of his glove, nod toward him and head out of the gate and into his car.

Rachel looks up at him from the hammock, placing the book she's reading down. "Finn?"

He walks over to where she's sitting, runs his hand over her shoulder blade and takes a breath. "Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't have planned it all if I wasn't."

He rolls his eyes. "What'd I tell you about all of that planning crap? Don't plan anything, Rach. Just... just let it happen."

"I like planning," she answers.

"I don't," he shrugs, sitting down on the hammock next to her as it shakes. She unfolds her legs, closes her book and crawls into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she lets out a little giggle. "Sometimes you gotta just let things happen, y'know?"

She nods, then, "Sure." It's the first time she doesn't have like, a _real_ opinion on something. He's enamoured.

He smiles to her, then moves her off of his lap. He's taking off his t-shirt and she's already unbuttoning her cardigan to show only bra straps. The sun's hot on the both of them, the only breeze from a few leaves on the tree above them. "Are you nervous?" He just has to ask her because she starts to freak him out when he notices her hand shaking as she unbuttons the last button on her cardigan.

"Y'know," she breathes, unsteadily moving her hand to find the last button, "in my head I told myself I'd be, but now I'm not so sure."

"It's nothing to be scared of," he tells her as she nervously sticks her arm out in front of her, sticking her hand on the button of his jeans, fiddling with it for a moment before she actually unclasps it. "This... this isn't your first time, right?"

She ducks her head and quickly picks up her hand from where she's fiddling with the zipper of his jeans. "I feel like such an idiot," she says after a moment of pure silence. "I stayed a virgin and you didn't wait for me like I always thought you would've."

"I... I thought we covered that in high school, Rach," he looks to her, using his index finger to push a piece of bang that sticks to her forehead. He's not angry with her because he thinks that she'll be like, inexperienced or whatever. He's actually angrier with himself because, well, he could've waited for her; he _should've_ waited for her. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she says with a sniffle, taking her finger and fiddling with the strap of her bra. "I really didn't plan for it to be like this, you know."

"Me either," he tells her. "I'm just... I'm just glad you didn't give up on us yet."

"I could never," she says, inching closer to him now as she reaches her hand out once more. "I... I love you, Finn." You _do_ know that, right?"

It feels _so _good to hear her say that. It's been just about forever and if any time is a good time, it's now. He nods, then, "Yeah, I know. I love you too."

"So," she says, biting her lip, "you _are _sure about this, right?"

"Yeah," he runs his finger inside the cove of her neck and she lets out a breath, smiling to him. "I've never been surer."

So they have sex for the first time ever in the warm sun on a hammock in his backyard and it's awkward and strange yet so, so great all at the same time until he quiets her down when he swears he hears Kurt pull in the driveway.

"Oh my God," is the first thing she says, moaning as she throws her t-shirt over her head, still tangled in him on top of the hammock.

All he can think about is how he totally just beat Puckerman, even if he's got a hot blonde and a hot tub and whatever else he's got waiting for him at home.

"My hammock!" Kurt cries as he enters the gate to their backyard, dramatically throwing his car keys onto the ground out of shock. "Were you two attacking each other or something?" He rolls his eyes and looks at his hammock in distraught.

"We were," Rachel chimes in because she knows just how clumsy and speechless and flustered Finn is. "Didn't you hear? Finn's moving out to New York with me to pursue a career in cage fighting."

"You're a pig," is all Kurt says before he races to the broken hammock, fiddling with each and every end as he lets out a whine. "I can't believe we're related."

"Not by blood," he corrects Kurt with a laugh.

Rachel's laughing too, squeezing her nails deep into the skin on Finn's arms as she stands beside him, watching Kurt pick at each and every strand of the hammock in amusement. "Thank you," she mumbles. "I'm not sure a first time could get much better."

"Yeah," he nods. "We _totally_ beat _The Titanic_ or whatever."

She shuts her eyelids, grabs his hand and intertwines her fingers with his, then pulls it up to her lips for a kiss.

He feels pretty lucky, really. He's got Rachel Berry and she's better than a hot blonde and a hot tub any day. The best part is that, even if she really doesn't want to be, in the end she's always _totally_ up for the unexpected whether she knows it or not. He likes that most about her.

...

He never plans on enlisting in the army. He just sort of lets it happen.

"I think it's _stupid_," she tells him in between over-dramatic sobs, folding her arms at her chest as she throws her head back into one of the pillows on his bed. He sits down next to her, running his hand over her forearm, but she just pushes it away and lets out a sigh, "I can't believe you'd actually even consider this. Finn, you could... you could be a coach or a... a teacher. Anything. But you _can't_ be in the army; you can't."

"Rach..." He's speechless and she's sobbing and this isn't what he planned at all. Only then, he knows it's not what he planned because, well, he _didn't_ plan. He didn't plan anything at all. He shuts his eyelids tightly, then breathes, "It's just the training. I'll be back before Christmas, if... if that helps."

"It doesn't," she answers harshly.

All he can think then is how he'll probably never be good enough. He lets out a breath and looks down to his lap because, really, he can't look up at her right now. He tried, he did, but if being with her'll just be a constant reminder of how wrong he'll end up being for her, he doesn't want to do it anymore. "Then maybe it'll help if we aren't together," are the first words that actually come out. He doesn't want them to be the first words, of course, but they are.

She clutches her hand to her already-quivering jaw and just starts to sob some more. "I... I won't let you break up with me, Finn."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not," she fights back, throwing her fist onto one of his pillows with rage as she lets out a sob. "If you were sorry you wouldn't even consider going to that training."

"Look," he starts, cupping his hand over the top of her knee as she tries to pull away, "I know you're angry with me, and I know you probably hate this, but Rachel, you're getting out there and finding yourself in New York City, aren't you?"

She nods, then lifts her hand and places it on top of his, still over her kneecap.

"So," he breathes, "maybe this'll be my calling. Maybe I'll kick ass over there at bootcamp. I mean, you never know until you try, right?"

"But you're good at other things too," she says softly.

"I'm really not," he shakes his head and she drops hers because, well, she looks completely sorry for him. He knows it and she knows it too; he's not really good at anything, at least not as good as she is when she's performing. She has her calling; he's still looking for something to call his own. "I leave September first," he tells her. "We've still got a month."

"Right," she sighs, lifting her body off of his bed as he moves his hand from her kneecap. "We have a month." She looks like she wants to say something else, but she stops herself and just reaches her hand out so she's grabbing his. "We're... we're not, y'know, breaking up, right?"

"I'll keep you as long as you'll have me," he tells her. When he repeats it to himself it sounds stupid, sure, but it's the truth; he'll keep Rachel as long as she's willing to keep him too. He knows she's kind of offended by the way that sounds because she does a little pout and lets go of his hand, placing her own in the pocket of her cardigan. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, you know," he says. "I just... I just love you."

"Alright," she says, a little bit relieved. "I love you too, soldier."

It's a joke, he knows, but he's not lying when he tells her he actually _likes_ the way that sounds.

...

There's a party over at Mike Chang's tonight; a reunion of some sort, he thinks. Not everyone from high school will be there, but most will and he decides to take a drive out after an hour of Rachel relentlessly convincing him she should use a 'catch-up session' or something. So he's driving up to Mike's in the car with a mellowed-out Rachel, nose in some book she's reading, in the passenger seat and Puck and Santana buckled next to one another in the back. Puck's chugging his last bottle of beer and Santana's telling him it's no surprise he broke the whole rule about arriving sober to the party. He flips her off and continues to sip his beer.

"I'm... I'm out," he taps Finn on the back of his head as he's driving, throwing his empty beer bottle down to the floor of the car. "Did you hear me? I said I'm all outta beer. I told Chang I'd bring six of our lil' friends on over to his house, so I'd... I'd step on the brakes and get to one of those 7-Eleven's up the road before Chang flips a shit."

"The only one flipping a shit is _you_, Noah," Rachel puts the book she's reading down in her lap and peers her head over the passenger seat and into the back. Finn and Santana both laugh in unison because it just sounds _really_ funny when Rachel curses. "And you already drank _six_ beers?"

"S helped," Puck nudges Santana and she just lets out a snicker. "What can I say? Depression does somethin' to a guy."

"You're clearly not depressed," Rachel hisses.

"Am too," Puck fights back, stupidly gripping his hands around the cushion of the seat Rachel's sitting in and shaking it slightly. "Once Q ended things I figured I'd be a free man. Truth is, I feel like a piece of shit."

"Ended things?" Finn asks, his eyes looking down to his lap as he feels the grip of Rachel's hand on his kneecap. He takes one hand and places it over Rachel's, keeping the other tightly on the wheel as he arches his brow and waits for an answer from Puck, who's tipsily letting out a laugh in the backseat. "The hell happened between you and Quinn, dude? Last I heard things were going pretty well."

"Oh, don't act like you give a shit, Hudson," Santana chimes in. "Lord knows how many times you and Quinn fucked around during college."

He feels Rachel get tense next to him, her wrist stiffening as she moves her hand further down his knee. All he does is rub his fingers over her knuckles and let out a gulp. "That crap is over now," he tells Santana. "I've got a girlfriend now; a _real_ girlfriend."

"Q was... Q was real," Puck says. "Girl is a _real_ champ in bed, trust me."

Rachel clears her throat and stiffens herself up in her seat, rolling her eyes. "Can you just tell us what the hell went on, Noah? Maybe it's only me but I'm actually really interested in finding out."

"The bitch gave up on me," he tells her. "She used the whole 'it's not you; it's me' bullshit on me at first, but after shakin' it out of her I found out the truth. She needs a _real_ man, not one who sits around on his ass playing Call of Duty and giving guitar lessons whenever he feels like it. Whatever, it's her loss."

"She... she moved on?" Finn's not curious anymore and Santana was really never curious from the start, but Rachel's still curious. "Who with?"

"Doesn't matter," Puck says. "What matters is she'll never want me anymore."

He doesn't feel like talking about Quinn anymore, so he turns on the right side instead of the left and looks back to his best friend. "I don't see why we couldn't make a stop," Finn starts, just before receiving a nudge in the side from Rachel and hearing an angry moan from Santana, who picks up the empty beer bottle Puck threw on the floor just moments earlier with a snicker.

They pull into the parking lot of the 7-Eleven four minutes later, Finn unbuckling himself and nudging Puck, telling him to get off of his drunk ass as he moans in the backseat. "I don't know the brand," Finn tells him, pulling him by the collar of his jacket. "Get the hell up, man. The girls'll stay here."

"Wait," Rachel calls back to Finn, unbuckling herself. "Are... are you sure?"

So she's never been the friendliest with Santana, sure, but he thinks she'll be okay for five minutes alone in the car with her. He leans his head into the window and Rachel scoots over so she's poking her head out of it a bit. "Five minutes," he promises. "Love -"

"We know, we know," Santana chimes in with a snicker, "you love her. Now hurry up and get Puckerman's drunk ass in and out of there before we get questioned by someone. I'll take care of Rachel, just go."

Rachel closes the window and turns back to Santana, who's sitting, arms folded, looking out the window at the almost-bare 7-Eleven parking lot. "He says five minutes now, but soon it'll be four months, then a year, then four..."

"Where's this goin', Berry?" Santana's obviously uninterested, but it's like Finn said that one time; if Rachel needs to talk, she'll find just _anyone_ and talk to them. "Oh," Santana says as her eyes meet Rachel's broken ones. "This is about all of that army bullshit, right?"

Rachel nods, "I don't want us to end up like Noah and Quinn. Look what happened to them."

Santana shakes her head and lets out a laugh, "If I don't get an invite to your wedding within the next ten years, then we'll have a problem. Finn loves you, crazy. Don't let your fears get in the way of all that shit. You just gotta... you just gotta live."

Rachel lets out a sniffle, then a small, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Santana says. "You could've found the same shit online, really. And wipe those tears from your eyes. You can't walk into a party crying, especially not when you've _got_ someone."

"Oh, Santana..." Rachel turns her body around, sympathetically placing her hand to Santana's forearm. "You've got plenty of people who enjoy your presence, I'm sure of it."

Santana doesn't say a word.

Rachel looks to the window and sees Finn, carrying two cases of beer and a drunken Puck alongside him. She doesn't even think of asking how they managed to get it; Finn doesn't even think of explaining it to the girls. "Santana," she whispers, turning around to the backseat again, "Brittany loves you too, you know."

"No," Santana shakes her head, shutting her eyelids tightly as he looks to Rachel. "She gave up on us a _long_ time ago."

Finn opens the door to the front seat and gives Rachel a small peck to the lips before buckling himself in. Santana snickers in the backseat, and they both know she isn't snickering at Puck because he's pretty quiet when he buckles himself in.

"Don't be stupid," Santana whispers when they start to drive out of the parking lot and down the road. They're stopped at a stoplight and Finn's hand is grazing Rachel's knee as he holds only one hand to the wheel. He and Rachel both turn around and look to Santana. "Don't give up on something this good," she's talking to the both of them now, he thinks. He's just mainly confused when she gives a wink to his girlfriend and she actually returns it. He's not complaining; just confused.

He thinks that's the way it's gonna have to go as long as he's Rachel Berry's boyfriend. Lots and lots of confusion.

...

Mike offers Rachel some mixed drink he's got on a tray on the coffee table and when she rejects it, Puck snatches it instead and chugs it down.

"You might as well send a big 'fuck you' down to your liver," Rachel tells him, rolling her eyes as he sets the glass down on the table with a slam. Finn sits on the arm of the chair beside her, laughing, because every time she curses it kind of turns him on.

"I don't think you get it," Puck grunts. "Quinn's supposedly here somewhere. Drowning her out with booze seems like a pretty idea, don't you think?"

"Talking to her may be a better one," Rachel says, boosting her body off of the couch and placing her hand over Finn's forearm as she faces Puck, who rolls his eyes at her idea. "You'll never know what you're missing if you just give up on her. She can yell at you and you can yell at her, but Noah, fighting is better than just giving up."

Santana smiles into her beer bottle, at least it's what Finn sees. That's weird, yes, but he doesn't question it because Rachel's tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as she pulls him toward her.

"We need to talk too," she tells him. "Please." It's not really a question, but he doesn't object to it because there's like, _so_ much he knows he needs to say.

Before he knows it, they're in the spare room upstairs in the Chang's house. It's got a few potted plants, a bed made up with white sheets and a small dresser drawer, nothing fancy. Finn sits down at the foot of the bed, his legs spread apart as Rachel squeezes her way in between them. "Hi," is all he says, looking up to her.

"Hi," her eyes are heavy now, he knows. She takes a gulp, pushes a piece of her bang off of her forehead and grips his shoulder with one hand. "I'm gonna miss this, you know. You'll miss it too, right?"

He nods, "Right as I get it all back it goes away. Of course I'm gonna miss it."

"You'll still have me," she tells him, only a slight trace of hesitance in her voice. "You... you will," she adds when he takes a gulp and lowers his head. "What?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head and wraps his hands around her wrists, holding her like that for just a minute. "Don't give up on us, alright? Take that advice you told Puck earlier, _please_."

"Oh, of course," she says, nodding a little. "I won't lie when I say I'm worried though. Bootcamp is a scary place, Finn, isn't it?"

"No," he laughs. "It's just training, that's all."

"Oh," she blushes, embarrassed, "well, be careful out there. Bootcamp may not be scary, but the world is. Just... don't fall in love with anyone."

"Trust me, I won't" he laughs. "Dirty soldiers aren't my type," he tells her.

She scrunches her nose and does a little laugh, throwing her body down to his, burying her head in the cove of his neck. "Love you," she says after a minute of silence. It's the first time she says it first in just about forever, so he takes his hand, runs it up her back and through her hair and presses his lips to hers quickly.

"I know," he says. "Don't stop either, alright? No matter how many offers you get from like, Broadway actors or any of those stupid NYU assholes you go to school with, don't forget I'm just a phone call away."

She blinks and presses her lips together, "You can make calls down there?"

"I'll find a way," he promises.

He sort of lets finding a way become his motto; his and her motto. He'll find a way to make it work and she'll just find him in the end, he knows it.

...

They lay out on his step-dad's pickup truck until one in the morning the night before he's supposed to leave. Aside from themselves, the crickets are the only sound around them so Rachel, a little scared, scoots her body over toward his and cuddles close.

Breathing heavily, she whispers, "This is the last time we'll be able to do this, you know that?"

"Not the last," he says, taking his fingers and picking up the ends of her sundress, fiddling with the fabric. "There'll be plenty of more times."

"If you say so," Rachel shoots her body up now, taking strands of her hair and tucking them into her ear as she bites her bottom lip. "I'm... I'm just worried you'll be called to war and I'll never see you again, that's all."

"Rachel," he starts, "don't think like that."

"But I can't _help_ it, Finn," she tells him, her eyes swelling up as she places her hand to his abdomen, resting it there. "Once I'm in New York, it'll be even harder to contact me. I'll be busy too, you know. School keeps me _so_ busy, Finn. And you, you'll be in the army until who knows when."

"Bootcamp," he corrects her. "And until Christmas. I'll be home for Christmas."

"I love you," is all she answers. "And I -"

"I... I love you too," he interrupts.

Ignoring him, she finishes, "And I won't leave you for some silly New Yorker with a fetish for Broadway shows, even if they're almost as informed of the world of Broadway as I am."

"That's my girl," he laughs, sitting up as she scoots over closer to him. He kisses the top of her hair and he tells himself it'll be like his promise; his promise that everything'll turn out alright because even if he's moving on in his life, he's not giving up on the two of them at all.

...

He leaves the morning of September first, just like he said he would. He's walking to the car, Kurt not far behind him holding onto one of his suitcases. Finn's got a suitcase in one hand and Rachel's hand in the other. "Hey," he turns to her as she lifts up her hood over her hair, the rain pouring down now. "Don't be so upset."

"I... I can't help it," she whispers as he starts to open the passenger door for her. "You'll be gone until Lord knows when."

"December," he tells her. "I'll be back December." He lets go of her hand and picks up a piece of his luggage from the wet ground. She's standing beside him in her raincoat and rain boots and it makes him smile because she _totally_ still dresses the exact same way she dressed in high school. But he stops smiling when he looks down at his pile of luggage because then he remembers why he's _really_ outside in the September rain at five thirty in the morning. He looks over to her and grabs her chin with his fingers so she's looking up to him. "You'll be alright."

"You two can do this at the airport; we've gotta get going if you wanna make your flight," Kurt interrupts. "Finn, you _did_ say goodbye to mom and dad, right?"

"Of course," Finn nods, letting out a little huff as a rush of cold air brushes over him. "Take good care of 'em while I'm gone, alright?" He looks over to Kurt who looks a little tired and a little upset so all he does is shrug and assure Finn he _always_ looks out for the both of them.

The car ride's quiet. Finn drives the way there because Kurt's too tired to do anything but set a pillow up in the backseat and lay down. Rachel's almost asleep in the passenger seat, pressing her head close to the window as she shuts her eyelids and lets out a little yawn. "Hey," Finn whispers to her when he swears he sees her eye twitch. "You alright?"

"I am," she does a sleepy nod, nestling her head even closer to the small space she's resting it on by the window. "Are we almost there?"

So he doesn't want her to be depressed about it, sure, but he doesn't want her to count down the minutes until they get to the airport either. "Does it matter?"

"I wish it didn't," she mumbles sleepily.

...

"You'll look awful," Kurt says minutes before Finn has to board his flight. Finn arches his brow, confused, and hears Rachel let out a little snicker beside him. "I mean, do they really have to shave it _all_ off?"

"Yup," Finn nods, running his hands through his hair. "It'll grow back."

"Gross," Kurt says in disgust as Finn lets out a little chuckle. He can feel Rachel start to tug at his hand a little harder, fidgety at his side.

"It'll... it'll grow back," he ducks his head so he's looking right at her. She's nibbling at her lip and looking into the gate that'll be open in just five minutes.

"I'm not too worried about the hair," she says, "although it _is_ one of my favorite things about you. Just... take care of yourself, alright?"

"You too," he kisses her temple and boosts his backpack farther up on his shoulder.

They announce the plane's arrival and give everyone the cue to board. That's when she starts to cry. Of course, Kurt's tearing a little too as he walks over to his step-brother, wraps his arms around him and whispers, "Take care of yourself. I've got Rachel covered."

"Thanks, bro," Finn says, smiling to Kurt. "I'll miss you."

"Christmas," Kurt says. "Don't send us any pictures until your hair's at least a little grown," he says with a chuckle. "You know me and my judgmental ways when it comes to the stylings of hair."

"'Course," Finn laughs, his arms still around Kurt.

"Finn?" Rachel walks behind them, her arms folded beneath her chest as she lets out a little pout. She starts to cry even before he makes his way over to her. "I... I knew I shouldn't have come."

"You weren't gonna come?"

"Look at me," she says, looking to Finn with tear-filled eyes as her lips quiver, "I'm a mess. I can't even stand in the airport without crying like a child." He grabs her hand with his and tangles his fingers in hers.

"Don't be stupid, babe," he tells her. "I get it; it's hard for you. You _do_ know it's alright to cry, right? I mean, it's never been a problem for you before, so..."

She stands on her tiptoes, flicking him on the forehead as she lets out a little giggle. He's just relieved because it's been awhile since she's done that and if there's one thing he needs to see before boarding an airplane as he makes his way off to bootcamp, it's that. "I love you, alright? Make sure you set up that webcam I bought you. You... you _do_ know how to set it up, right? Just... just make sure you do that. We'll talk whenever; day or night, you call me. Even if it's day for you and night for me, you can still call me. I'll answer. Finn, _please_ call me."

She sounds so broken and desperate and she's rambling too many words for him to comprehend, so he just leans forward, takes her lips in his and leaves them there for a minute. "Webcams are confusing. The time difference isn't that drastic. I love you, too. So, _so_ much."

He's boarding the plane now, but he's being pushed every five seconds as he walks down the terminal. It's because he's looking back every two seconds, making sure Kurt and Rachel are still standing right where they were before he boarded the plane. They are. _Always there_, he thinks to himself as he's tugging his backpack tighter and tighter onto his shoulder.

...

Bootcamp doesn't suck, actually. He's stronger and he's willing, too; everyone there knows it. He works his ass off day and night but it's worth it because, well, he _finally_ feels like he's good at something. It's a pretty kick ass feeling.

When he gets a few minutes, he checks to see if he's got any letters. None. He opens his computer instead in hopes that he'll actually be able to turn on his webcam. When he does, it's blurry and pixelated, sure, but he gets a call not two minutes after and he'd rather see a blurry and pixelated Rachel than no Rachel at all.

"Rach?" He's not sure if she can hear him, so he leans closer into the microphone attached to the computer and clears his throat. "Babe, you there?"

"Hi! Finn? Hi!" She's in some coffee shop or something, he thinks, because the background is busy and there's a latte on the table and a few textbooks, too.

"Where... where are you?"

"I... I can't remember right now," she says excitedly. "I... I just... hi!" It's really adorable how over-excited she is and he doesn't even care who passes by his computer and sees. He's only paying attention to the blurry, pixelated version of Rachel on his screen, relieved. "Oh, wait, I'm in a coffee shop downtown," she tells him. "I'm meeting a friend but he hasn't shown up yet so I'm just studying. How are you? I miss you! _So_ much."

"I... I miss you more," he says. "But did you say you were meeting a friend? You said _he_ hasn't shown up yet. You're... you're meeting a _guy_?"

She lets out a laugh, then, "He's just that; a _guy_. And just so we're clear, he knows I've got a boyfriend. Actually, I've told him all about you and me just the other day."

"How long have you known this friend?" He arches a brow and feels like an asshole because she looks more than annoyed at his question, lifting her coffee cup up, covering her lips. "You know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter. Let's... let's talk about something else."

"Let's," she agrees with a nod, setting her cup down on the table. "How's everything down there? Not too gruesome, I hope."

"I like it," he tells her. "I _really_ like it. And babe, I'm actually _good_ at it."

She holds her coffee cup tightly, lifting it to her lips but not taking a sip. "I'm proud of you. You _do_ know that, right? I tell everyone all of the time and, well, it feels kind of good saying my boyfriend's in the army."

"Training," he says with a laugh, "but..."

"Either way, I'm proud of you." She blows him a kiss then. She turns away from the screen for a moment and everything gets about twenty times blurrier. Something in his stomach drops because he thinks he loses her for a minute. She turns back around, lifting her screen up so she's visible again. He sees everything - her orange button-down cardigan, a pile of textbooks, a pen _and_ the fact that she's wearing the golden locket he got her the night before prom their senior year of high school. He can't even remember when he last saw her wearing it, but she _definitely_ wasn't wearing it all throughout the summer. He tells himself he won't ask her though; he just smiles because she's back, even if she never really did go anywhere.

"Where'd you go for like, twenty seconds? I thought I had a bad connection or something."

She giggles, turning around once more, "Baby, meet my friend Michael. Michael, this is a pixelated version of my boyfriend, Finn. He's in the army, just like I told you."

She calls him baby right in front of the guy friend he was suspicious of just moments before. He breathes a sigh of relief, then lifts down his screen so she and Michael can see all of him. "Hey Michael. You down in New York too?"

"Junior over at NYU," he nods. "Rachel's in my theatre studies class."

"Well, I'm Finn," he says. "Nice to meet you, Michael, even if it's virtually or whatever."

"Don't worry," Michael says. "Feels like I've already known you for like, years. Rachel over here doesn't shut up about you, I swear."

"Good things, I hope," Finn says with a laugh and Rachel jumps into the frame once more, nodding and saying _of course_ all she speaks are good things.

He's never believed her more.

...

He has about twenty minutes to use his webcam before he's got a workout to complete, so he takes complete advantage of it.

He signs on and sees Rachel's on. He waits a minute because she's _always_ the one to call first; it makes her feel special, she tells him.

Five minutes pass by and she hasn't called him. He highlights his mouse over her name but doesn't click anything. _She'll call_, he tells himself.

Ten more minutes go by and she signs out all together.

He drops a weight on some guy's hand down on the field and doesn't even apologize until the guy flips him off. "Careful there, clumsy hands," the guy looks over to him as he lifts his throbbing hand up and makes it into a fist. "Asshole like you won't make it into the army with hands like those."

He doesn't say anything, just gathers his stuff up and makes his way to another part of the field. He sits down in the dirt, letting out a huff as he looks to the dry sky. He thinks about the guy down in the middle of the field; he thinks about how even some stranger he's seen probably a few times here and there doesn't even believe in him.

At least when he had Rachel to talk to, he knew _one_ person believed in him.

...

He hooks up his webcam and signs onto Skype everyday for two weeks straight after his workout.

She's always online and she's _always_ avoiding him. Just seeing her name there hurts something inside of him, but he can't bring himself to erase her from his contact list or anything like that.

Then he starts to think she was just another stupid summer fling. It _always_ works like that, even in all the movies. He shouldn't think like that, he knows, but he can't help it. He had her all summer and then he had to go away so of course, she might've said she was okay with it even if she completely wasn't. He hates the fact that he's gotta find all of this out the hard way.

...

Kurt's online a week before Finn's about to leave to go back home and even though she's online too, he doesn't feel so tempted to click her name when Kurt's is right above it.

"Hey!" Kurt seems excited to talk to him so it makes him really happy. He can't even remember the last time he's felt genuinely happy unless he's working his ass off and receiving compliments from everyone out in the field. But a person hasn't really made him happy since Rachel, and he _really_ doesn't want to have to think about her. "How are you?" Kurt turns around and mumbles something to someone but Finn doesn't even bother trying to understand it.

"I'm... I'm alright."

"I know she hasn't been speaking to you," Kurt says.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Neither does she," Kurt says, a little guilt-ridden. "Finn, I should've told you a few weeks back when I spoke to her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I understand where she's coming from."

"Wait, what are you talking about? Are we talking about the same thing here?" He's confused; he's so, _so_ confused. He'd like to know why his girlfriend - if he can even call her that anymore - is avoiding him at all costs. He'd like to know why his step-brother is going out of his way to be secretive because, well, as long as he's known, Kurt was practically the personal gossip columnist of everyones' lives. "Kurt?"

"She'd worry about you all the time," Kurt starts. "She'd skip classes and they'd find her by herself crying in her dorm, Finn. Her friend - Michael, I think it is - couldn't even snap her out of her funk by offering her his tickets to _In the Heights_. Do you _know_ how crazy she must be going if she rejected _In the Heights _tickets?"

"Where is she now?"

"She's back in Lima with me," Kurt tells him. "She's actually... well... she's actually upstairs in my room right now. I told her she could shower and clean up and whatnot and then we'll be meeting Mercedes for some coffee and a movie."

"What about school? I mean, I knew _your_ break started now, but I could've sworn hers wasn't for another couple of days."

"She's... well... how do I put this? She's given up, Finn," Kurt says. "She's sure she doesn't want anything to do with show business anymore."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She's good; she's _so_ good. He'd rather her use her talent to make it big in show business than be with him any day. It's stupid of him to think that way when he knows she could easily have both, but for a second he thinks he's right because, well, she _obviously_ couldn't handle it.

"I swear on Marion Cotillard I'm not making this up for your amusement or anything," Kurt says, flouncing away from the computer screen for a minute as Finn hears another round of mumbles. "Finn, Rachel kind of wants to speak to you and as much as I'd love for you two to have a gracious little reunion - virtually, of course - we _really_ should get our butts over to the coffee shop."

"Put her on," Finn says without even thinking.

Kurt pushes her over to the computer screen, Finn knows, because he hears a pull and a push and a whine from Rachel as she shouts for him to quit it. Kurt's chuckling now as he places the computer right in front of Rachel. Her pixelated face is the first thing she sees, even if she's covering it with her tiny hands, flushing red and shaking her head.

"Don't be nervous," Finn says, his voice flooding the tiny room he's sitting in as he looks to the screen of his computer, waiting for her to uncover her hands from her face. "Rachel, I'm not mad at you, I swear. Please talk to me."

"Hi," is all she mumbles, quieter than ever, as she uncovers her hands from her face and lets out a little sigh. "Are you sure you aren't mad? You seem a little mad."

"Tell me," he goes on, "why in the world would you even think of giving up something you're so good at? Did someone tell you that you weren't good enough at it or... or did someone make some kind of comment about your looks not being enough for theatre? Rach, your looks are _totally_ enough for theatre and more, I promise."

She shakes her head, "I guess I just changed my mind."

"How? You've been set on being in show business since I've met you and beyond. Are you... are you insane?"

"More like indecisive," she murmurs.

"You were so sure of yourself though, Rach," he says. "You're just about the surest person I know."

"I'm still sure," she nods. "I'm sure I'd like to be a music teacher of some sort instead. I'm working on changing my major and setting up informal vocal lessons on the weekends. You've gotta start somewhere, right?"

Even though he's super confused why she'd do this in the first place, he nods and smiles because he can't imagine doing anything but supporting her just like she supported him and his choice to go into the training program he's in. He tells her it's great she's still set on doing something in music and then he tells her he loves her, even if he's never been surer she'll probably just ignore that part.

"I love you too," she says before Kurt's practically tugging at her collar because he only believes in being fashionably late, never twenty minutes late. "I'll see you next week, alright?"

He'll ask her everything then. He'll ask her why she chose to do what she did; why she chose to quit pursuing her dream in show business for something else. He'll let her know it's alright she did so because, well, everyone deserves second chances and more sometimes. He thinks he'll skip out on asking her why the hell she avoided him for weeks and weeks. He knows he'll just move on from that because maybe, _just maybe_, some things are better left unsaid. He'll make that one of them.

...

Kurt and Rachel are already seated on a bench when he walks out of the gate, but not for long. He's flooded with kisses and hugs and a whole bunch of words he can't understand because he's just _so_ relieved to be back home.

"Hi," he finally says to Rachel once he's got the chance to scoop her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist as he boosts her body up on his torso. "Gorgeous."

"So strong," she says, one arm around Finn's neck as she lifts the other and runs it over his biceps. "Hi."

"I'll leave you two," Kurt says with a small wink as the two of them turn around to him for just a minute, his hands gripping Finn's luggage. "There's a new copy of _Vogue_ calling my name on that newsstand over there, so..."

Finn lets out a laugh and gives Kurt a thumbs-up as he watches him sprint toward the newsstand. Rachel, still in his arms, leans her head to his shoulder and lets out a little hum, "I have _so_ much to tell you."

"Right back atcha," he tells her. "But it can wait. I'm not going back, y'know."

She opens her mouth, shocked, as she lifts her head off of his shoulder so she's looking right into his eyes now. "You're kidding."

"Like you said," he breathes, "you've gotta start somewhere, right? I mean, sure, it's not the first time I'll be starting something new but it's something I'm pretty good at and have been wanting to do for like, forever, even if I never considered it once college rolled around."

Rachel nods understandingly, then proceeds to place a soft kiss onto his lips. "I missed that. _So_ much."

"Yeah," he says, returning her kiss with an even harder one, nibbling on her bottom lip before pulling away. "I missed _you_."

She starts to run her fingers over his jacket as he still holds her close to him, her legs still wrapped around his torso. He leans his head forward and looks to Kurt, who's still standing over at the newsstand, flipping through pages and pages of magazines he'll never end up buying.

"Here's to a new start," Finn says almost out-of-the-blue as he feels Rachel's heavy breath near his ear, her head still leaning on the top of his shoulder.

"No," she corrects him, "here's to us moving on to something greater."

...

He likes the mornings, usually. He wakes up next to Rachel, who, even though claims she's a morning person, really isn't. She moans and groans and reaches her arm out to try and snooze their alarm clock. "Just ten more minutes," become four of the most famous words he'll probably ever hear in their house.

He knows she likes mornings too, after she's brushed her hair and her teeth and slips on her robe and sometimes grabs a muffin or the coffee he usually has sitting in the pot for her.

"Don't kiss me," she says with a chuckle, hands over her mouth as she makes her way to the bathroom one morning after trying to snooze their alarm clock almost an hour over its set time.

"Morning breath?" He teases, crinkling his nose as he lifts the covers off of his body and lets out a laugh.

It takes them an hour to get ready, Rachel usually out the door before him because although one for neatness and tidiness, she likes to be ready just as quickly as her husband. She forgets her vocal books sometimes because mornings make her forgetful but he's always there to grab them for her. "On the countertop," he says, patting his hand down on the stack of sheet music.

He's coaching football over at McKinley now and it makes him feel awesome because really, it's something he's pretty kick ass at, even if he'd never imagined he'd be doing something like this before.

She's directing the glee club - still named New Directions because she thinks it'd be wrong to name it anything else - and sure, it's not what anyone really expected her to do, but she does it anyway and really, she loves just about every second of it.

People in the school tease them; Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, the glee club director and the football coach. On their lunch break one day, Rachel tells him she swears she overheard two students in the hall asking if Mr. and Mrs. Hudson used one of their offices to get down and dirty in between periods and all he can do is laugh. "They're jealous," he tells her. "Look at us."

"We _are_ pretty cute," she says with a smile, opening up her paper bag with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she barely remembers making in the morning.

"Well, if it isn't the two of _you_," Coach Sylvester, in refusal of ever _really_ retiring from McKinley completely, walks over to their table with a snicker. "Quit the yappin' so I can quit the gagging and get on with eating my lunch. Coaching these frisky Cheerios is getting harder and harder by the day, even for me. It's always important to be energized, even for you two useless teachers."

Finn can't help but laugh, both at Rachel's widened eyes and Coach Sylvester's ridiculous-yet-entertaining attempt at humor. She leaves quickly once she sees Mr. Schuester, still the head of the Spanish department, walking down the hall with a stack of papers in his hand.

He peeks in the window of the teacher's lounge for a minute, giving off a little wave to his two former students. They wave back and smile to him and even though a few months ago he might've thought something like this would've been weird - him and his high school girlfriend working in the same place as their high school teacher - it's actually kind of nice. _Really_ nice.

He feels Rachel's hand on his knee under the table and grabs it with his own, still gripping a half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in one hand.

"You know," she whispers, leaning her head in close to his as he feels the look of just about everyone in the teacher's lounge right on him and Rachel, "I don't even mind receiving a few accusations from the students about us... fucking. It's actually kind of amusing."

So is her swearing. It's so, _so_ amusing. He feels kind of rebellious for her because, well, they're in a school setting and here she is, hand on his lap while she lets out a swear word without a care. "Yeah," he breathes, "I don't care about that too much either."

But he does care about his job a lot, so he tells her to keep her voice down and scoot her chair over just a little so the students don't continue to talk. She just laughs. He cares about her a lot more, though, so he scoots his chair back over to her, whispers that he's sorry and pecks her on the cheek, not really caring who in the teacher's lounge is watching them or not. "Love you."

Rachel only smiles. "Love you too, coach."

If it's always going to be like this, he can't _ever _imagine complaining.

...

A/N: So that was long. _Really_ long. And since it all started with a prompt using the two words 'moving on', I fully grant your permission to deem me crazy.


End file.
